Why Running Vs. Other Cardio?

A friend from high school recently asked me via email why I run vs. other types of cardio workouts. Neither Ellen nor I were "runners" in high school, we were active but didn't run for the sake of running. But in our adult lives, we've both taken up the sport; she's a more recent convert than me, and is still wondering whether it's all worth it.

I think she was asking from the perspective of actual physiological benefits. Unfortunately, I don't have much information on that front. But it did get me started thinking about why I, personally, choose to run.

One big factor is the ease. You lace up a pair of shoes, walk out the door, and go. And actually, being able to walk out the door and have nice running routes right there was a factor when we were looking at houses and neighborhoods.

Another factor is the versatility. Running is as hard or as easy as you make it .... okay, it's never really easier. But you can choose to walk if you're having a rough day, or you can pick up the pace and add in some hills if you have energy to burn.

I also appreciate that it gives me time away from everything else. If I were to do a workout video in the basement, I would still hear the phone ring or the baby crying. I just want to go.

And finally, I like that it is a sport that lends itself to goals. Big ones (like a half-marathon) and small ones (make it to the next light post without walking). I am constantly setting running goals. Sometimes I make them, sometimes not. But either way I know that running will always be challenging for me. I will always feel better after having gone for a run, whether it was a good run or not. And, after many years of not accepting it, I'm proud to call myself a "runner."

The Family That (Watches Other People) Plays Together

My cousins from Poughkeepsie NY were in town most of last week for the Indians/Yankees series.
Thursday night we had over my cousins, parents, sisters/brother-in-law, aunt, and uncle for dinner and to watch the Cavs game.

It was nice to spend time with my cousins, since we don't get to see them very often. I have plenty of memories of vacations and trips to visit them when we were younger, but I can probably count on 3 fingers the number of times I've seen them as adults. As I said to Keith, it was kind of a relief to realize that I actually like them and think that they are great guys! I didn't really know what to expect, since the last time we spent any extended amount of time together, Madonna was on her Blonde Ambition tour.

Family, especially extended family, is such a funny thing. How you can know so much about each other, but so little. Even after seeing my cousins several days in a row, I can't tell you what hobbies they have or books they are reading, or what their plans are for the next 5 years. But I can say that they are kind, thoughtful people with an outstanding sense of humor (I did uses that singularly, because the two of them share the exact same type of humor). Good family to have around.

Rock Climbing

Thanks to our friend Emily's suggestion, we went rock climbing on Friday night with her and Stephen and Stephen's rock-climbing buddies. Well, to be honest .... the experts (Stephen and co.) actually climbed. The novices (me, Keith, and Emily) just messed around. But it was fun!

Emily directed us to the Cleveland Rock Gym, which is an old warehouse that has been converted into climbing walls ranging from 10-feet to 30-feet tall. We chose not to get harnessed up and tackle the 30-foot walls. Instead, they had an option to just "Boulder" which meant climbing the smaller walls or staying below a certain height on the higher walls, so we didn't have to get harnessed and belayed. (Can you "get belayed"? Not really sure of the verbiage there ....)

We did rent climbing shoes. As the worker is pulling out our appropriate sizes, he did warn us "These shoes should be tight enough to hurt." And they were! Not just uncomfortable, but seriously painful. They are very thin, and the bottom is made of smooth rubber. Somehow the shoes curl your toes under—I'm assuming for better grippy-ness on the rocks. I couldn't keep them on the whole time; I had to give my feet a break in the middle. As Stephen says, "I feel like a ballerina!" Except, not graceful. At all.

I was really intimidated to start. I felt like everyone else knew what they were doing, and I was just this wimpy, out-of-shape former runner who didn't know the first thing about climbing. I imagined myself falling off the walls in many horrible, contorted positions. I'm really glad we had Emily there to give us some pointers.

She explained that they create different routes on the walls, which are marked by colored tape and given a point value. For example, the red-tape route (which usually has a more colorful name like "Cherry Bomb") could be worth 100 points, which is the easiest. The more points, the higher level of difficulty.

To start, Emily climbed a medium-difficulty route. Then Keith tried it and got probably 3/4s of the way before jumping off the wall because he couldn't figure out where to go next. I only made it halfway, if that. For us, it was much more than medium difficulty.

Eventually, I fell into a groove. First of all, I stopped trying to follow routes and just climbed the easiest way possible, using every hand- and foothold available. Stephen also gave us some climbing advice ("Use your legs! Try the mantle grip!" and other things we couldn't decipher). We also sat around and watched the experienced climbers, marveling at how they moved their bodies up and sideways. I especially liked seeing someone arrested in mid-climb as she contemplated her next move. Kind of like chess, but with your LIFE. (If it weren't for the harnesses and all.)

Towards the end, we focused on the easiest wall in the place, and one of the easiest routes on the wall. We tried over and over again to figure out how to finish that one route. Keith and Emily both did; I never managed it without cheating. And after a few hours, my arms weren't even capable of hauling me up to the top of the 10-feet wall, no matter how many ways I cheated. It was time to call it a night.

I think, overall, it was a really great experience of getting outside my comfort zone. At the beginning of the evening, I thought it was a HORRIBLE idea. We were going to die horrible deaths, or at the very least be painfully maimed. And why? WHY? Just for fun.

But by the end, I was enjoying myself. I liked being sore the next day. I'm still thinking about that one route, and how the heck I could manage to finish it without cheating. I'd like to go back and give it another try. Hopefully before my next birthday!

Babysitting Success

Our night out this past weekend went really well. The Dayton Flyers won (Go UD!) and we enjoyed our time away.

We couldn't help wondering, of course, how things were going back home. But we resisted the urge to call until we were on the road heading back home. According to what my parents told us, Eleanor was a little angel and everything went very smoothly. I suspect, though, that they would tell us that regardless of the truth, because they love us and want us to leave the house occasionally over the next decade or so.

Being a parent is a funny thing. A strange combination between wanting your child to become independent and wanting to take care of her forever. Why is it that I'm so conflicted? I wanted her to take a bottle .... but when she finally did I was a little sad. I wanted her to be happy when her grandparents hold her and play with her .... and when she is, I feel unneeded.

This parenting stuff is hard work. Even when we're taking the night off.

Pre-Game Jitters

I'm starting to get nervous, and tip-off is still days away.

For the first time, we are leaving Eleanor for an evening out on the town. Our Alma Mater, the University of Dayton, is playing the University of Akron in Akron, and we have tickets. This means we'll be gone around 5 hours, between driving and the game itself.

I never intended to be the kind of parent who won't leave her child with a babysitter. But, well, you can't plan on the child. And, for her first 4 months, Eleanor refused to take a bottle. So that made the decision for us.

We've snuck out of the house a few times before. When Keith's parents visit, they send us out for coffee or a quick meal. My Mom has watched Eleanor one afternoon while I went into the office for a meeting. And we even went to a friend's wedding in October—we just skipped the ceremony, showed up at the reception in time for the meal, and left before the dancing really got started.

But every time I've been gone, I've felt the clock ticking. And I knew if I didn't get back within 2-4 hours at the most, there would be a hungry baby meltdown. Which is much more ferocious and scary than it sounds. As time passed, I could feel myself winding tighter and tighter as I worried about what was going on at home. I couldn't truly relax and enjoy it.

A few weeks ago, that started to change. I don't know if the 20th bottle we tried was the charm, or if she had just decided a bottle wasn't all that repulsive. But she started to show a little interest in it. We've been working on it since then, and I'm completely confident that Eleanor is fully capable of taking a bottle.

Will she choose to take it? Well, that's a different question entirely. My parents have graciously offered to be the experimental babysitters, and suffer Eleanor's wrath if she chooses to refuse sustenance. They have seen and lived through her hungry frustration before, so I have every confidence that they can handle the situation. Between the rocking, bouncing, singing, shh-ing, and more, they could soothe their way out of World War III, if necessary.

So I'm really looking forward to this basketball game. I know that Eleanor will be lovingly cared for, and is completely capable of being fed and happy when we get home. I no longer worry that I'm abandoning her and scarring her because she's going hungry while I sip my latte. So we just might have to stop for a leisurely latte on the way home.

Dollar Dog Night

For my dad's birthday yesterday, we (me, Keith, and my parents) went to an Indians' game. Although it rained earlier in the day, it turned out to be great weather in the evening--cool, with a slight breeze.

The Indians lost a close game to the Red Sox. But it was enjoyable because the stadium was full and the crowd was rowdy. Of course, the reason we were all there: Dollar Dog Night.

After last night, there's two things I'd like to share with you:

1. My friends, I ate wayyyy too many hot dogs, all covered in spicy stadium mustard. Seemed like a good idea at the time. And probably will next time a Dollar Dog Night rolls around. I have a short memory for the ill effects of a food coma.
   
2. Just in our small section, we saw two women wearing pearls with their t-shirts and jeans. What's the deal with that?
   

Lubbers Bracketology

Now that March Madness is upon us, Keith laid down the rules the other night. He sat down on the couch where I was sitting, and turned to me.

"You're not allowed to fill out different NCAA brackets," he said. Very matter-of-fact, but it was still a pronouncement, not to be messed with.

"I mean, you can enter as many pools as you want to," he clarified, "but once you pick your teams, you have to use the same picks for all the pools you enter."

Apparently, this is something he'd been considering for a while. And he decided that it's somewhat immoral and wishy-washy to pick different teams in different pools. If you make a pick, you make a pick and that's the end of it.

I was actually kinda glad he'd made this ruling. Since I have a hard enough time picking winners once, I'm perfectly happy to only do it once. And I can see his point about having the guts to make one choice and stick to it.

Now just keep your fingers crossed for Niagara!

World Cup Hopes

I've gotta be honest: I'm seriously depressed about the U.S. losing in the World Cup.

It took me a while to get into it this year. It wasn't really until it started that I remembered how exciting the World Cup is, and how much fun it is to get really involved.

It wasn't until the U.S. lost today that I remembered how much it sucks to root for a team that doesn't even make it past the opening round.

I miss the days when I lived, breathed, and slept soccer. In middle school/high school, I played on teams and practiced on my own. I played at least 9 months out of the year between indoor and outdoor teams. When I think back to lazy, carefree afternoons of childhood, what definitely stands out are the Friday afternoons the spring of my freshman year in high school. A bunch of people (mostly guys) would get together and just play until it got dark. It didn't really matter if you won or lost, as long as you played hard.

Rooting for the U.S. in this World Cup was bringing that feeling back to me. It makes me wonder what I've really played hard at lately. Trying to improve just for the sake of improving and seeing hard work pay off.

Even though the U.S. is out of it, hopefully I won't lose it entirely.

Too Much of a Good Thing?

I went golfing this past weekend. Early Saturday morning, Keith, my dad, and my dad's cousin, and I played 9 holes. It was chilly, but the sun was out and overall it was a great day for it.

Here's the thing: I'm bad. I'd say on the worse side of just "bad," even. Which is perfectly understandable, because I can count on one hand the number of times I've actually set foot on a course. So I take a big swing, hit the ground and then the ball and send a divot flying twice as far as the 5 ft my ball rolls. I tell myself it's fine—no problem. It's good for me to do things that I'm bad at, helps me learn humility, patience, etc.

But here's the other thing: I seem to be picking up more and more hobbies that I'm not very good at. First it was running, and then knitting, and golf .... what happens when the things I'm bad at outweigh the things I consider myself to be competent at? Is that still good for one's ego? Where's the tipping point where you're actually making yourself feel worse because you suck at everything you try?

Maybe it's because I'm getting older that I feel like I'm not very good at new hobbies. That other people have been doing them for years, and I'm behind. Maybe the key is to be bad, but find other people who are just a little worse than you so you can still be boosting your self-confidence at the same time.

Any non-golfers want to play 9 holes? I'll drive the cart. And the divots.

Who Dey Think Gonna Ask Them Prices?

Originally, I planned on writing a happy, joyous account of quirky Christmas traditions around the world. However, lately I've realized there are some rather annoying American Christmas traditions that must be addressed (which is more entertaining, anyway.)

I may have previously mentioned one or two things that annoy me about shopping. And you would think I was done. But no! It has been brought to my attention (Thanks, Carrie!) that clerks at a sports apparel store in Northern Kentucky have been *gasp* rude and unhelpful.

I know, I know—you're shocked. But I have corroborated my source's story, and I tell you it's true. An innocent shopper was trying to find an AFC North Champions item of apparel for a family member. She went to a store with a multitude of AFC North Champs apparel choices .... none of which were labeled with a price. Obviously, seeing as how the Bengals' status as AFC North Champs just became official last weekend, these items are brand spankin' new. How was she to know the price?

She went to the clerks to enquire, and they were seriously annoyed at having to talk to a customer about a price during work hours. Seriously, wasn't it enough that they stood there for eight hours, occasionally scanning in merchandise and swiping credit cards? Just yesterday, someone made them use the pole thing to get a sweatshirt from the 10-foot high row of hooks. God, the pressure! So much being asked of them!

So yes, point of the story: add items without prices and self-absorbed nitwit clerks to the list of shopping annoyances.

For me personally, we've been getting a lot of Christmas cards in the past week. Which is nice--spreading Christmas cheer is wonderful. Except, when they are addressed to "Mr. and Mrs. Keith", this does not make me cheerful. It makes me angry and twitchy. It gives me the uncontrollable urge to break something or drink a bottle of wine to take the edge off the burning inferno of rage.

This is not good for me. This is not something I would like to associate with Christmas. I am not merely Keith's chattel; I also have a name. My own name, which is just as easy to say as "Keith" but actually refers to me as an individual, instead of as my husband's property. So if you would like to send me a card or address me in any way, I would actually prefer it if you would address me.

I know I'm preaching to the choir, as it were, because if you know me well enough to be reading my blog, you know better than to make such an egregious error of judgment. But I still put it out there in case you may, perhaps, be visiting a mutual friend or family member who happens to be writing out holiday greetings.

Please, I beg of you, say something on the behalf of women everywhere and stop the madness. Spread the cheer. Write two names.

Ahem, now that you've finished your shopping and mailed your Christmas cards, have a Merry Christmas! (And if you haven't, Walgreens and Speedway welcome you with open arms.)

Color Commentary

Now that college basketball season has started again (Go Flyers!), much of our time is spent courtside. And it has been declared that I would not make a very good basketball announcer. My commentary gives more of a sense of the overall atmosphere rather than focusing strictly on the game play. You might find this approach more appealing; let me know.

Megan’s calls

Tip-off: Look at how long Warren’s shorts are. It’s like he doesn’t even have ankles!

15:30: We’re losing.

13:25: We’re still losing.

Under 10 time-out: Oh, look! The cheerleaders are cheering at center court! No wait, they are lifting one cheerleader and holding her up. Wow. That’s really motivational. I feel like our team can go out and win, now that the cheerleaders have held one of their own in the air for at least 30 seconds. What would we do without their encouragement?

8:15: Look at that guy on the visiting bench. I think he’s picking his nose.

5:47: Hey, we’re winning now! That’s exciting.

3:11: My boy is in! *Shouting* Go, Marcus! I clap enthusiastically. Meanwhile, on the court, plays develop that are not at all related to my favorite player, which I ignore.

2:08: Are we going to get something to eat at half-time? I was thinking maybe nachos, but a hot dog sounds good, too. Do you have to go to the bathroom? Maybe we should go to the bathroom and whoever finishes first can get in line and then the other person can meet up with them. And when you’re paying, I’ll get the condiments and napkins and straw. Can’t forget the straw!

HALF-TIME

20:00: Oh, Cripe’s playing instead of Alvarez. Cripe is kind of goofy looking, but I guess if he gets the job done…

18:45: Band director Willie is wearing a new jumpsuit. Are those lights or sequins? Oh my god, it actually does light up. Look! It’s like a mini-landing strip, running right up the side of his pants. Wow. He really does go above and beyond.

14:23: I can’t believe we’re winning by two. It doesn’t feel like we’re winning. Did you realize that if Roberts score another 4 points his number/fouls/points will read 2-2-22. Crazy. Go Roberts!

11:57: Have you noticed that the people to our right have gotten up and left about 10 times this game? There must be a reason. They look a little older. Maybe they have a daughter who’s pregnant and due any day, and they’re anxiously waiting to hear. Or they’re drug dealers.

9:03: Are we in double bonus? I can never remember when that starts. Do you think that Monty will score again? If so, four of the five players on the court would be in double digits, which makes me happy.

3:29: Look at everyone leaving just because we’re up by 10. Fine, leave people! Hurry out to your cars and get out of our way, thank you very much. And you call yourselves fans!

1:13: Hey, I found a typo in the program! Look here, it’s a single right quote in front of the year, but it should actually be a single left quote …. I know that I’m the only one that will ever notice, but it’s still wrong!

Final buzzer: Enthusiastic clapping. Go Flyers! That was a good game. Well-played, especially by Marcus. And the Burger King ran around the arena to start the wave, which I always find amusing. Good times!

p.s. For those kids counting along at home, I’m on book 43—Bel Canto by Ann Patchett. The Tony Danza Christmas movie involved a town called Evergreen, a girl named Noel, and Betty White. If you enjoy Christmas cheese, I highly recommend it!